


Color My World | NOIRxREADER | Valentine's Day One-Shot

by spacecadetnoir



Category: Noir Peter Parker, Noir Spiderman, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Spiderman - Fandom, Spidermannoir, Spidernoir - Fandom, peter parker - Fandom
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Romance, Soft Peter Parker, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecadetnoir/pseuds/spacecadetnoir
Summary: When Spidernoir visits your universe for an official first date, he's met with an unforgettable surprise.





	Color My World | NOIRxREADER | Valentine's Day One-Shot

The slight breeze pushed rain against your face as you sat at the bus stop, waiting for Peter. The bouquet of roses you bought for him were curled in your left arm as you reached for your phone in an anxious effort to look occupied; your palms were cold and sweaty. Two minutes had gone by and your head shot up, looking around. It was busy as usual in the big apple; people were pushing their way through unbreakable crowds, splashing puddles and cussing - just like in the movies.

Your hair was wavy and slicked back while your beret lay upon it. Your right leg, over the other, lightly kicked as you anxiously awaited Peter’s arrival; and suddenly, there he was, approaching with his fedora low. His hands were firmly tucked in the pockets of his long, ebony colored coat while his round frames sat firmly upon his crooked nose bridge. Your cold hands longed to hold his, and you couldn’t hold back from smiling.

You and Peter had gotten close after he’d met you at Blue Note on 3rd street, just a year before. He’d traveled to your dimension and time out of random curiosity, then followed the sultry sounds to the notorious jazz club. And the second you saw him enter the musical scene felt like an eternity; it was only fair, after having made you feel such a way, that you’d get to know him. And so you did - over egg creams and the funky tunes of Dizzy Gillespie.

His foot tapped on the off beat, along with the high hat, as he sat back comfortably; his rhythm was so attractive. The more you talked with him, the more curious you became. His charm was like a force field, keeping the cold reality away and keeping you within its barriers. He knew pain all too well, from what he told you about his past; all you could do was be there for him and listen, which he was ever so grateful for. And when he asked to see you again, after sad truths had been shared that cold, autumn evening, you knew you’d made him feel the warmth he unknowingly gave off.

So there you were, another chilly weekday in New York City, admiring Peter’s beauty. You stood up with a warm grin on your face and yearning arms. He was swift and looked like a moving shadow; before you knew it, Peter was right in front of you, tipping his suede fedora.

“Hey there __,” he tried holding back a faint smile, “It’s been too long.”

“That it has,” you said, lightly giggling. “You look good! Certainly a lot livelier.”

“Yeah? Well, I certainly have reason to.” He cracked a slight smile, looking directly into your eyes. You, on the other hand, were a nervous wreck. You smiled while looking away, nervously playing with the flowers you got him. _Oh right, the flowers,_ you thought.

“Th-these are for you, Peter,” you cleared your throat, “I know how much you like flowers and thought you’d like these.”

“...Oh, well geez __, I don’t know what to say...these are gorgeous,” he admired the dewey roses as he subconsciously twiddled the ribbon that tied the the gift together. You heard the brown wrapping paper crinkle as he held the bouquet closer to his heart. “Thanks doll, ‘really appreciate these,” he said tenderly, trying to collect himself.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Peter. Glad you like them,” you could feel your face muscles growing tired from all the smiling, but it didn’t matter; the happiness was inevitable and you didn’t want to fight it anyway.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled, heart shaped card. “And for you,” he chuckled nervously, “Sorry it’s a little beat… ‘had to whomp a twit or two on my way here.”

“I-I’m sorry?” you lifted both your hands and gently grabbed the gift.

“Got into a little brawl on my way here, wasn’t no hang-up or any-”

“Oh no, are you okay?!” You worryingly interrupted. Your right arm immediately rested itself on his shoulder, ready to caress him.

“Agh, don’t worry ‘bout me doll... Usual day in my universe,” he very much admired the sympathy given and smiled at you.

“O-Oh… well, anyway, thank you, Peter,” you softly giggled. You studied the vintage illustration of a winking, black cat, tracing it with your fingers. _Make it “short” and “snappy” kid - “yes” or “no”!_ , you read under your breath, almost laughing aloud. He observed your beauty as he watched your reaction.

“So... how’s ‘bout it kitten?” His voice was low and scruffy as he stood there, seemingly calm; he was not, though. His hands, sweaty as well, tucked themselves back into the deep pockets of his never-ending coat while the bouquet remained in-between his right arm and his side.  

“...Yes,” you said, your voice in a delayed crescendo. “Of course I’ll be your valentine,” Your face grew an over joyous smile as Peter let out a sigh of relief, smiling as well. The both of you were ecstatic at the mutual feeling that had been so obvious, and yet so overwrought. It’s like you and Peter were sort of avoiding the feeling, either to save it all up for this very moment, or because you both could not contain such spiritual fire.

Either way, everything had fallen into place. And you two hugged like you both had been longing for the sense of touch to remind you you’re alive. His grip grew a little tighter, and it was clear that he was truly letting his guard down; letting go of all the hurt from within. He missed you dearly, and his heart oozed of pain; it ran like mascara and rubbed off on you. But in this instance you couldn’t be more grateful. The best advice you could offer at that moment was a soft back rub; you felt him do the same.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ___,” he said, just before reluctantly parting from you. You looked at him reassuringly, when suddenly, a faint smile and head tilt had him as confused as you. “...Is there something the matter?”

“No, it’s just… your face - it’s turning to color,” you felt your heart race through your chest.

“Pardon?”

“You’re flushed, Peter… You’re blushing, and the grayness is fading,” your hand, still holding the card, was placed over your chest. “It’s, how you would say, cute as a bug’s ear!” You had remembered Peter using that phrase on you before.

“Awe, kitten, how sweet- Wait, it...it can’t be,” he then feverishly took your hand and lead you to the nearest window; and there he stood, in utter incredulity. His hands, protected by jet black leather gloves now caressed his chiseled face as he admired the colors; his olive skin tone and rosy cheeks - they amazed him! And he knew it was all thanks to you. The warmth you gave off gave him color, which allowed for an entirely new perspective on life.

Peter wasn’t subjected to feeling dull or down when he was with you, especially after this breakthrough. His once heavy heart, now light with joy, was beating as fast as yours. All he had to do was take one look at you, and he truly felt his heart was safe - safe in your presence, in your New York City, in your universe only.

“Thank you, __, I’m so grateful, I-” he choked on his self-indulged gratitude.

“Awe, Peter…,” you stroked his arm just before intertwining yours in his. You didn’t really know what to say, either. You had no idea Peter’s lack of color and color blindness were due to his traumatic past. Everyone assumed it was permanent because of the world he came from. But it made so much sense that true affection and kindness were all he really needed to view the world in color; that’s what his entire world was lacking and longed for.

Peter, a practiced pessimist, couldn’t help but think of how limited his time was with you at this point. He was still accustomed to short intervals of euphoria, probably because he didn’t feel as deserving of it. “Gnah, well… now I really don’t wanna go back to my dimension,” he whined at the realization. “You’ve shown me so much kindness. You’re genuinely sweet, __, and I don’t wanna leave.”

“I don’t want you to either,” you tried to remain optimistic, “but hey, that won’t be for awhile, and we have so many more days to spend together,” you replied enthusiastically to cheer him up, “So how about we enjoy the moments as they come? ...Please?” your eyes and voice were benevolent.

“You’re right. I oughta’ cut the malarkey. Don’t wanna be a gum in the works.” He smiled at you, fixing his hat on his head.

“Awe... c’mon hon,” you said tenderly. The two of you continued down the bustling street like a sailboat in the middle of a stormy ocean; people pushing, then breaking like whitecaps. Heavy raindrops hit the ground around you both as you remained dry under the buildings’ canopies. You talked more about yourself, entrancing him with your body language and high spirits. He quietly listened, interested in everything you ever had to say. The conversation carried on at turned corners and through mom and pop shops.

After rushing across another busy street, Peter remembered the roses that were tight in his arm. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at them, stunned at their beauty. They were so... _red_. How did he not realize this many moments ago?

The brown wrapping paper, the damp ribbon, and the dewy petals - red like your cheeks in any given exchange with him, “They’re so...so…” he couldn’t configure the right words as he examined the bouquet.

“Vibrant?” you finished, smiling at yet another one of his discoveries. You knew this was going to be an amazing Valentine’s day, full of Peter’s unfamiliar excitement over colors and vocabulary.

“Yes...vibrant...and just, beautiful,” he pushed back his frames almost subconsciously, then looked at you, “A lot like you are, __.”

“Huh? Oh, well... I’m flattered Peter,” you giggled and felt your face heat up again, though you felt his words were undeserved, “And I’m so glad you can see their colors! Just wait ‘til we run into the flower shop on 3rd Avenue,” you looked ahead of you, still linked to his arm and ready to continue the stroll.

“Flower shop? Alright, now we gotta shake a leg lovebug, I gotta see that kind of wonder,” Peter looked at you, excited; his hands were pretty animated when he was enthralled.

“Haha, we’re almost there darlin’,” you reassured; his bashfulness returned, and color started to fill his hands, wrists, and arms. He took off his gloves just as the both of you approached the small, fluorescent lit shop. His jaw almost dropped at the site of the array of colors; there was so much beauty to take in; for the both of you. He was like a kid at a candy store for the first time; so intrigued, and yet, with so much composure. He was absolutely handsome, roaming the room with his coat following closely behind. You grinned and leaned on your hip, and your head tilted in awe. How could someone hold so much charm?

Your hand hid your laughter as he feverishly told the lovely florist of all the flowers he wanted to buy. She looked at you, hairs falling out from her messy updo, slightly confused but very much as entertained as you were. And alas, Peter was done choosing all the flowers that reminded him of you; there was almost one of each flower available in the shop, nicely packaged in the Valentines-special, heart shaped box. Another woman with beautiful dark hair and bright brown eyes came out from the back door of the shop, smiling as she took off her worn out garden gloves.

“Haha, what a beautiful selection!” she exclaimed, looking at you and Peter. “I’ve never seen a couple come in on Valentine’s day _together_ to buy some flowers,” she teased as she proceeded behind the counter with her wife, the worker who’d helped Peter pick out the flowers. You noticed their last names engraved on their name-tags, and their beautiful engagement rings.

“Oh? Well this is our first time seeing a couple _working_ together at a flower shop on Valentine’s day,” you teased back. The couple laughed as they handed Peter the large, bright red, heart shaped box.

“Thank you, guys! You two have yourselves a wonderful Valentine’s day, now!” They kindly waved; you and Peter returned the favor as you thanked them.

Peter pushed the door open with his back, holding it for you. His arms wrapped around the large gift. And then you two were off again. “Didn’t realize you were a bit of a jokester, __,” he muttered with a smirk; you recognized his slight struggle and reached to hold onto the bouquet for him.

“Well, Peter, there’s still so much we don’t know about each other,” you smirked back, walking by his side, ”For instance, I never realized how incredibly gentle you’ve been ‘til… well, this very moment.”

His head lightly jerked back in shock. No one’s ever told him that before; no one’s ever given him that notion. But it was so important to hear, especially from you. He knew how pessimistic and brooding he was, but he hadn’t realized how risky that could have been for such an inviting, comforting individual - not until you let him know how far from that fate he truly was.

His despondency didn’t push you away, regardless. In fact, it was sort of charming in that you could be the one to change it all. He never intended to seem aloof, but of course, with a past like his, what other choice did he have? You of all people understood this. And with all this in mind, Peter was at a loss for words.

“You okay there, hon? You went quiet for a while,” your eyes met his for a second; he then looked ahead.

“Just wrackin’ my brain a bit,” he replied earnestly. And naturally, you wondered what about; there must have been a lot on his mind, being a closed-off man who represses feelings to avoid moral ambiguity. But he wasn’t numb; he was just _very_ reserved. Nevertheless, you were quite aware of the fact that all it took for Peter to open up was to show him genuine compassion and tenderness; that’s all you could ever offer to anyone you came across. Peter just happened to be the one who needed it most from you.

The wind picked up as the evening approached; the skies were dark and grey and you and Peter finally made it into your cramped, cozy apartment. You couldn’t wait to finally sit down with him and enjoy his company. As the two of you left your shoes at the door, hung up your coats and placed your hats on their respectable hooks, Peter made himself at home in your kitchen - he’d made egg creams for the both of you while you left the room to get some blankets activities.

“Hey Valentine,” you smiled as you entered the living room and set the folded fleeces down on the couch; you then sat down.

“Oh, hey there, __,” he replied with a warm smile, “you’re just in time.” He made his way over to the living room and placed your freshly-made cups of egg creams on the coffee table before you. They looked delicious.

“Just in time for egg creams?”

“Well, that too, but,” he sat down next to you, “Since I picked out each flower that reminded me of you, I thought that maybe you’d, uh, like to know why,” he took a drink from his mug and set it down. You saw that the large, heart shaped box was on the floor, adjacent to the coffee table; Peter lifted the lid off carefully, so as to not damage any flowers,

“Oh- well of course I do Peter,” you looked at him with kind eyes, almost dumbfounded. He was struck by your beauty in that short moment; you were so adorable, sitting next to him with a mug in your hand and eagerness disguised by a wide smile. The rain was pouring outside, making the silence between you two somewhat more bearable. Peter proceeded to pick out the first few flowers and hand them to you.

“So, you got your daisies, chrysanthemums, carnations and zinnias. Daisies represent innocence, while the chrysanthemum represents honesty. The white carnation represents how loveliness and sweetness,”

“Awe, you’re a sweetheart,” you said, immensely grateful. The mug was tight in your hands as you found it hard to handle such adoration.

He looked at you with what seemed like ease as he took in your beauty. But he was just as hot in the face as you’d been; He continued, nervously, “Uh... the pink carnation means I’ll never forget you…” he watched as you laid the blankets over the both of you and scooted in close enough to have linked your arm and hand in his. He was so warm, and his arms were so toned. Your thumb gently stroked his hand as you rested your head on his broad shoulder and patiently waited for him to continue, “...And the zinnia is so that... you remember me when I’m away,” he finished slowly, almost completely inattentive to the flowers at this point. To him, you were the one flower in the garden he’d pick; all the other flowers didn’t compare to you. You were the brightest, most colorful, in his world. He didn’t bother explaining the other flowers - you were far more important.

You held the flowers dearly; and you knew you’d never in a million years forget Peter, especially when away. Even so, you understood the gesture and were more than grateful. These flowers resembled you in Peter’s beautiful, brown eyes.

“Peter,” you let out quietly, caressing the petals, “I wanna stay here with you forever,” you looked up at him, your head still on his shoulder. After a short pause, he slipped his arm out of your grip to wrap it around you completely, and he sat back, inviting you to lay your head on his chest instead. His hand lightly caressed your thigh.

“I do too, dollface,” His voice was low and soothing. You’d felt so safe and warm in his arms, like nothing would ever harm you, ever again. And Peter - he craved your warmth and intimacy. He longed for someone to hold, and for someone to return the favor. In all the universes he’d travelled to, he was so lucky to have found yours, and to have met you. “You know… that thing you said earlier, ‘bout me being gentle… I’ve actually been meaning to thank you,” he pushed back his frames, almost in a practiced effort.

“Thank me? Oh hon, that’s-that’s silly,” you bashfully smiled, averting your eyes to focus on something less intense. Your humility was so attractive in his eyes, he couldn’t help but stare.

“You’ve given me so much hope in a matter of hours. Ya know, it’s something I’ve yearned for my entire life, and you handed it over so effortlessly. W-when you told me I was gentle? I don’t know, I just felt I wasn’t such a cold guy,” his eyes now fixated on the rain outside your window. Your head lightly jerked upward and off his chest to really look at him. You felt his grip around your thigh grow a little tighter, like he felt he was going to lose you. And finally his eyes met yours, “I _really_ like you, __.”

“...I do too, Peter. I like you so, so much,” your voice was soft again; his words surrounded your head and heart, keeping them captive without chains. The sight of your lips as you uttered sweet nothings had Peter nervous as ever. His eyes overstayed their welcome, fixated on you, and you couldn’t help but notice. He averted them and cleared his throat, though it was useless. You chuckled at his unintended silliness. “You’re really cute, Peter Parker,” you teased. His cheeks were flushed as he tried to contain his emotions. He was so caught up in your lips, and the kindness they spewed. They were so soft and lonely, it was unfair; he had to kiss you.

He placed his hand on your cheek and looked into your eyes - they were deviant, youthful, and full of life. And you - you were so full of colors he once before couldn’t even fathom, and yet there you were; a walking piece of art. Your soul _glowed_. It shined right through you, and anyone could recognize it for miles, especially Peter. He found himself falling deeply in love with you, and your beauty, and your mannerisms. He hadn’t fully grasped it yet, but he surely didn’t want any of it to come to an end anytime soon.

Finally, he indulged in your lips - it was a kiss that never wanted to let go. Both his hands cupped your face, and both your hands placed themselves on his. He was tender and sweet, and still you could feel so much pain and eagerness coming through him. He gave himself to you in that very moment, as you did with him, and it all felt like endless euphoria.

He reluctantly parted from you, lightly exhaling. His breath on your lips as his forehead leaned on yours made him more and more desirable - you wanted the moment forever. He pulled you in for another kiss, this time softer. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as Peter wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you on top of him as he laid down with ease. The kisses between you two were now passionate and unchained, fueled with desire and longing.

After gently parting, only centimeters away from each others’ faces, you both smiled. His face was radiant, you couldn't look away - nor could he. Your hands rested on his chest as he admired you and tucked your hair behind your ear; the rain was heavier and louder. You rested your head on him after what seemed like an endless moment of exchanged smiles and laughter, and your hair lightly tickled his neck and chin. Your head fit perfectly in his neck, like a puzzle piece. He stroked your back in an effort to help you relax and fall asleep on him. And you were definitely getting there.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, __.” he kissed the top of your head.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Peter,” you replied, just before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ; I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, Spidernoir enthusiasts :)


End file.
